The Case of the Missing Detective
by Spockette
Summary: Sherlock wakes to find he is the object of a sex fantasy mistress. What could she want? Warning: sexual themes, nudity, torture and later medical healing and John! I don't own any of the rights to Sherlock (BBC) but I sure like to fru his good looks, and John aint bad either.
1. Chapter 1

They say hearing is the last to go when you black out. I blacked out seemingly all at once. My hearing was the first sense to return when I felt myself come back to the living. A husky female voice announced her presence.

"Oh my, my. Look what my guys have brought me now! The great Sherlock Holmes. Is it my birthday?"

I lay still while I get my bearings about the sound of her voice and try to make a deduction about where I am. Her voice is like silk, smooth and velvety. I crack open one eye and see a starch white room. I am laying flat on a smooth surface, not quite a bed. Maybe a stretcher or table. My head hurts where I was knocked unconscious, no doubt quite a knot there. I try to swallow but find my mouth parched, my tongue licking my dry, cracked lips. I think it's time to try moving about a bit; no wait, I'm strapped down and immobile, even my head. I fight the panic that is settling into my body and take a deep breath. I hear myself cry out as the pain in my left side stabs me back to the harsh reality that I have been abducted.

"Mr. Holmes, welcome! You have your mind palace, I have my pleasure palace." She gets nearer to me and I shake my head loose from the strap around my forehead. I crane my head around to see that she is wearing an all-latex cat suit with face mask to match.

She caresses my head, "Poor baby, my guys worked you over pretty hard", she progresses to lightly touch my left side where my ribs are surely broken. "Ooh...what's this?", she fingers the scar on my right side where Mary shot me. "You've had surgery, poor baby. I can give you more scars if you are into that." I clear my throat and hear my harsh reply, "What do you want? Who are you?" She puts a finger up to my lips, "Shush, now is not the time for questions. So full of questions." her eyes narrow and she takes in my body's length. "You need extensive treatment Mr. Holmes. I can't have you hurting yourself now can I"? She placed my neck in a rigid cervical collar and strapped my forehead back to the table. I struggle against the straps holding my body down hoping to find a loosening in their hold. "Release me now.", I calmly tell her in my most threatening tone I could muster.

"What fun would that be? Now, as I said before, shush!" She held up a small syringe filled with an amber filled liquid. I recognized it immediately from my past years of heroin use. A part of me begged for the sweet release that I knew it would give but another part of me was appalled at the thought of being doped against my will. "No, whatever you want, I will try to get it for you, no...no." I felt a cold wipe on my inner arm and she moved the needle closer to my arm. I was begging now, crying even, "No please! I don't do that anymore, I don't want it. Please stop." There was a pinch and then I felt the warmth of the drug spreading through my body, instantly warm and gooey. The mistress was smiling. "Good, good boy. You're going to be so delicious!" The world faded into the distance and I lost my consciousness to the inky blackness.


	2. Chapter 2

I awaken what I suppose is hours later alone in the same room. My mind is the equivalent of thick mud. Everything was too white and too loud. Beeping. What is that beeping? It's getting louder and faster in tune to the pounding in my head. I'm being medically monitored. I still cannot move and I feel that my clothes have been removed. At least I can feel a sheet or blanket over my body. I start to voice my concerns but the dryness of my mouth has been replaced by a gag. The gag fills my mouth completely to the back of my tongue. I cannot speak or breathe around it. I start to choke on the feeling of it, alarms squealing in the distance and the shuffle of feet into the room. It is the mistress again, stroking my hair back. I feel sweaty and nauseated under the intensity of her examinations. She injects something into the IV that runs from above my head into the vein in the back of my hand. "Calm down, Sherlock. I can make you. Relax."

She is now caressing my face. I try to stare daggers into her cold eyes to portray how repulsive she is to me. Control Freak. Sex addict. I feel the fear slipping away with the drugs but I am still aware. She continues. "So perfect. Skin like porcelain, excellent bone structure. Angelic. You are beautiful Mr. Holmes, I have wanted you so badly. I want you." She began to rub at her genitals through the latex suit she wore. She pulled down the sheet that covered my chest and grazed my abdomen with her hand. I try not to let her know I am sensitive there but she notices the hitch in my breath. "I can see this is going to be fun indeed." She gently palpates my stomach from my breastbone to my pubic area. I feel like I could urinate when she presses down on my bladder. Who knows how much fluids they have infused into my veins while I was out. She must have felt the fullness there too because she commented.

"Hmmm. I think we have a little problem here." She opened a package out on the table behind her containing a urinary catheter set. "Can't have any accidents can we? Say aaahh." She inserted the cath into my urethra despite my pitiful groaning. I felt the urine flow out of my bladder when she secured the drain tubing to my thigh. I had been cathed before when in the hospital after being shot by Mary. The experience had been quite nice then, not having to move from bed to go to the loo but this was a totally different feeling. I was being violated, stripped of my free will. Controlled with drugs and bound.

She was stroking my penis and cupping my testicles. "Sherlock, Sherlock. I would have thought that would excite you. It sure excited me. What next? I think you could do with another infusion. I like my men with large testicles." I didn't know what she meant but she was readying another IV setup. "I want you to watch this, you might find it fascinating." She pulled over a small television monitor that was hooked to a video feed directly from the bottom of the bed so I could see it. I saw his own body from that angle, focused on my genitals. I noticed I had been shaved. I try to keep myself trimmed and neat in that area but never shaven slick.

She was cleaning my scrotum with betadine swabs, the browinsh fluid running down my groin. She had an infusion needle aimed at the top of my scrotum, near the base of my penis. I couldn't breathe as she pushed the needle into my skin and began to push the fluids into my scrotal sac. The fluid was warm and I began to try to free myself from the restraints again. My head was held firm by the cervical collar and straps and it felt like I had rigid splints on the rest of my extremities. I watched in horror as my scrotum swelled with the fluids she was infusing. She stroked my penis and testicles as they grew. "Yummy! How's that treatment? I think I will have some of my own medicine as you get bigger for me. Then I want to work on that tummy of yours. You're too skinny Sherlock. I like a little belly sometimes."

She slowly unzipped the bottom of her suit to expose herself and sat on a stool where she could see my expanding genitals. I felt extreme pressure but it wasn't really painful. The mistress was inserting a catheter into her own bladder and then placed a butterfly shaped vibrator over her clitoris. She made soft moaning sounds as she supported my bloated scrotum. "I want to make you hard, Sherlock. Give you what you need to fully recover." She injected something into the side of my penis. I saw stars in my vision due to the surprise of the injection. I tried to think of something else, retreat into my mind palace but the drugs from earlier was preventing me from doing that. "Yes. That's it. How about that?" she smiled at me. I looked at the monitor to see my rock hard penis pulling at the catheter fixed to my leg. She released the tape holding it in place. She then placed a milking device over my stiffened member, the catheter exited the top of the device. It began to tighten and vibrate. I felt its vibration against my penis tip, my hips involuntarily squirming in response. I was losing all control!

The mistress continued to pleasure herself while watching my cock response and testicles swell. I was humiliated. My breath and heartbeat quickened and my genitals ached. The mistress was rubbing my lower abdomen occasionally pressing against my bladder. I was going to explode. My penis filled the milking device now, swollen along with my testicles. Please, no! My whole body stiffened with the force of my orgasm. The mistress was climaxing with her vibrator and screaming my name. I looked at the monitor after I caught my breath and my testicles were grossly swollen, filled with the fluid she had infused. She was removing the needle and caressing them gently. "Now, that's better." She took off the milking device and reconnected the catheter to its tubing to drain. She held up another brown filled syringe. "Baby wants its bottle now? Good baby." I felt the heaviness again as the heroin reached my veins through the IV. I needed to escape and soon before the addict took over and started to enjoy the punishment.


	3. Chapter 3

Slowly, I realize that my body hurts. I'm coming back around and I don't like it. I'm cold and unable to move but I feel a change in my positioning. I open my eyes to the dim lights of the room and find I am slightly sitting, still strapped to the table but my legs are locked in stirrups. I can't see much of my body for the white sheet that covers me. I hear myself groan just thinking of the next session with the mistress, my mouth full with the gag still inserted. My mind is muddled with heroin and other drugs that the mistress sees fit to give me. I surmise I have been here 2 days. My mind has thoughts of John frantically searching for me, at least it's a good thought. I do hope he hurries.

The mistress enters the room and turned on the lights. This time she is dressed in a black silk baby doll nightie, her full breasts protruding from the holes designed for the nightie. She isn't wearing any panties and it looks like she has shaven herself. The shocking thing to me is she looks about 9 months pregnant. She is wearing the same mask as before and is waving another syringe full of heroin at me. I close my eyes to the thought of another injection. I feel the pull in my mind of wanting her to dope me, taking away my pain.

"Ready to get started again? I do hope so. I have many treats in store for you today." She places the syringe on the table next to the bed where she has her supplies. I make a disapproving moan hoping she would leave me be. She turns to me, stroking my cheek with her fingers.

"I love your hair, so dark and soft." She leans over me whispering in my ear, "I always wondered, how would men look pregnant? You like my little belly? Looks real doesn't it. I wonder if yours will be as pretty? " She reached for another package from the table before straddling my hips over the sheet. "I'm going to like this." She peeled the package open to reveal a long, clear tube. She leaned in toward me, measuring between my nose and chest with the length of the tubing. "Don't look so scared, Sherlock. This won't hurt a bit, a little discomfort for my pleasure. You should be flattered."

She put the tube end into my left nostril and gently guided it into my throat. I fought back the coughs to no avail. Pain burst from my chest and head with the coughs racking my tortured body. I felt her advance the tubing until it rested in my stomach and she secured it with tape to my cheek. I could only guess what was next.

"Nice, now that wasn't too bad was it? The other part was performed by my assistant while you were resting." She climbed off of me and pulled the sheet from my body. There was a full bag of fluids hooked up to more tubing that disappeared to what I could tell was my anal area. An enema. I ached so bad in that area from the saline injection that I hadn't realized anything was secured there. She hooked another full bag to the gastric tubing and started the flow. "Soon my dear, you will have that little belly I so desire to see you have. First, a little candy for being good during the procedures." She only gave me a small amount of heroin this time, not enough to put me out but to leave me wanting more.

"Rest up Sherlock, I will be needing a few samples from you later." She patted her false belly and covered me before leaving me in the dim room again.

I lay there trying to relax but the fluids are quickly filling my digestive system. It's getting harder to breathe with the pressure on my diaphragm and lungs from the fluids in my stomach. I can't take a full breath now and I'm sorely uncomfortable.

The mistress reenters and turns back on the lights. This time the light makes my head hurt and I feel sick. "Oh, I see you're having some morning sickness! Deep breaths, Sherlock. Oh! I'm sorry, is it hard to breathe? You are not getting in enough oxygen dear." She injects me again with a milky fluid this time. I'm out like a light.

When I come to this time, I'm still sick but I'm getting a full breath of air now. To my horror, I have a breathing tube in my mouth, and the mistress is pushing oxygen into my body with a resuscitation bag. I feel panic rising. The mistress stops bagging me and hooks me up to a ventilator. Each breath from the ventilator is hurting my lungs and my chest hurts really bad.

"Now, breathing won't be such a task for you and I can work on gathering those samples. I love you little belly, Sherlock. Not as plump as mine though." She rubs my bloated stomach while rubbing her false one. I admit that I do look about 6 months pregnant. My body would absorb all this fluid but I know it will take time. She moves between my legs where the table has been dropped out. She removes my urinary catheter and begins to stroke my penis again. I try to think of anything but her ministrations but the drugs have lowered my ability to resist. Damn those sex hormones and nature!

She must have a vibrator inside of herself because she is getting aroused. I wonder why she doesn't want to have sex with me? My question is answered after she collects my semen in a sterile test tube, sealing the top. I'm tired now and she milked every drop from me. I feel like vomiting now and my stomach is cramping. I feel a sting in my lower abdomen when she reinserts the catheter. The mistress holds up the semen sample to show me the milky fluid inside. "This my dear Sherlock is why you're here. This fluid is precious. Your sperm will fetch me a lot of money on the black market. Women flocking to buy the virgin Sherlock's sperm to impregnate themselves. I've cornered the market in London for hard to find items like your semen. It's good we need you healthy because your kidneys would fetch a good price. Now for your treat. Rest up lovely. We're putting in a new service here. " I try to scream around the tube but I only make pitiful gagging sounds. She injects the rest of the heroin.


	4. Chapter 4

Heroin. I feel myself drifting in and out of reality. Must have been a good dose this time. I don't quite feel my body, it has been hijacked by the mistress. In with the good air, out with the bad air. I don't even have to remember to breathe. Now I feel a stinging sensation across my back, like a short shock of electricity. It jolts me back to the present but I still have the heroin fog that clouds my mind. I'm standing upright now, still immobile. I think I am secured to some kind of frame, maybe one of those frames for the paralyzed. I'm more aware of my body now and I see the mistress in front of me. I'm naked and freezing, pain is integrating its way into my body and mind. I hope they kill me this time and save me the agony of more sex and torture. Somehow I think that will not happen since they want my seed to sell.

"There you are my dear Sherlock. Ready for more? We need to wake you up some more so the pleasure will be more intense." She nodded to someone behind me and I feel the sharp sting of a whip, leather braided across my back. Memories of being holed up and tortured before enter my mind and I shake them off, trying to focus on the present. Where are you John? I need you now.

The mistress is sliding long, thin needles under the skin on my chest. "I see you like to be whipped, you have some scars on your back. My friend Dr. Pain likes it too." Another searing blow to my back. I'm fully awake now and shivering. "Come here Dr. Pain, he needs his shock treatment."

Dr. Pain appears in front of me dressed in green surgical scrubs, mask and hat. He has a couple of clips attached to wires that he is fixing to the wires. They are planning to shock me. I try to move but I'm too weak to fight. The mistress is in front of me now, rubbing my bloated stomach again then her own fake. I'm locked inside myself as she places some lubricant onto my penis. "I'm going to try my own little equipment." She slides something cold over my penis. "This is my milking machine. If you don't give me what I want, you get what Dr. Pain wants which is pain. Now, relax and concentrate on filling up my little vial with your wonderful sperm."

Minutes seem like hours to me as I try not to focus too much on what is happening to me. I feel a jolt of electricity and I feel my heart quiver with the shock. If I could have thrown up I would have at that moment. The mistress screamed at me. "Focus Mr. Holmes! It's best if you give to me naturally. I don't want to harvest your sperm artificially. Don't make me suction you dry." The heart monitor is alarming but Dr. Pain silences it. My heart is racing and I can feel it in my throat.

I close my eyes to shut out the sight of the mistress. The sight of her is making me quite ill, plus my heart is skipping beats. They have knocked my heart out of rhythm. I can't gain control of it and her milking machine is making its presence known. I have broken out in a cold sweat and my chills are more intense, almost feverish. I try to control my breath like so many times but the ventilator takes over and forces me to take in oxygen. I'm climaxing and the mistress is watching the collection container that is attached to the machine as it collects my fluids. My heart is still racing and I feel my vision blur around the edges. I'm going to pass out. Dr. Pain punches me in the left side where I already have damage. The pain is excruciating and I know he has just punctured my lung with the broken rib. I barely hear the mistress and Dr. as they are yelling at each other when I finally black out.


	5. Chapter 5

Five days missing. John was worried about his best friend. He had tried texting, calling and looking for him in his favorite hiding spots but nothing turned up. One day, a strange text beeped in on his phone. "Try looking at Fun Fetish-I.A."

Irene Adler was on the case too it seemed. He called Lestrade to meet him there at the sex kink shop to take a look around.

It was like any other shop that specializes in sexual favors. The blonde at the counter was dressed in short daisy dukes and halter top, six inch stilettos on her feet. It amazed John at how women could walk in those things. There was a door marked "The Clinic" to the rear of the shop. The blonde explained that they hosted medical fetish parties in their private clinic. John had heard of medical fetishes. People who did that sort of thing got off on inserting catheters and doing medical type procedures on each other. It was then they heard an argument going on behind the locked door. Lestrade got into full policing mode, calling the crew outside to come in on his talkie.

"Open it." he demanded.

The blonde refused. "I can't. I don't have a key."

Lestrade kicked in the door and John followed him in. There were several rooms, all medical looking and white. There were beds, examination rooms, dental chairs each room slightly different. The shouting was still in full swing and John could make out a few sentences.

"You idiot, now look at him. He's really hurt now."

He heard a man mumble a reply.

"Get him down and onto a stretcher, now. I got to give him something or he's going to have a full on heart attack right here. Then what will we do for the money. I have customers lined up already."

John crept around the open door to the room and was shocked to see a naked Sherlock Holmes with wires and tubes in him, strapped to a Stryker Frame. Lestrade swung in beside him.

"Police, freeze."

There was a pregnant lady in a nightie injecting something into Sherlock's vein. It looked as if he was unconscious already. The man who looked like a surgeon grabbed a chair and threw it at them trying to get out of the door.

John had his pistol trained on the woman as she stroked Sherlock across his stomach. His stomach was swollen and looking grotesque on his lanky frame. Even his testicles were swollen to 3 times their size.

"My God, Sherlock."

The woman looked back at John while Lestrade had the surgeon restrained at the door. "If I can't have him, you can't have him either." She had a scalpel and plunged it into Sherlock's already bruised side and reached over to turn off the equipment that was helping him to breathe.

"Stop!"

She flipped the switch as John squeezed the trigger, shooting her in the thigh. She fell to the floor and one of Lestrade's men was quickly on her, securing her hands.

Sherlock was not breathing. John did not know what kind of drug she had injected but he knew it was for no good. He quickly swung the frame around so Sherlock was parallel to the stretcher and released the straps holding him there. He had rigid splints on all four of his extremities and his left chest was swollen and bruised. John pulled a sheet over his naked body and released the tubing from the machine.

Grabbing the Ambu bag from the table he started pumping air into Sherlock. He looked to the heart monitor and noticed Sherlock's heart was failing. He was going to go into arrest and soon. His heart was out of rhythm and he needed to get him to a hospital fast. He barked out orders to the closest officer to help him disconnect Sherlock from the equipment. He left the saline drip in his vein knowing that it would be needed.

"Come on Sherlock. Not just yet. Steady."

The medics arrived and they quickly transferred Sherlock to their stretcher for transport. John left the splints and cervical collar on him not knowing what injuries he had. They would sort that out at the hospital. John kept steadily squeezing the bag to deliver breaths to Sherlock's battered body. He gave it over to the medic at the ambulance.

Lestrade pulled up in his car and John jumped in the passenger side for the ride to the hospital.


	6. Chapter 6

Lestrade dropped John off at the hospital on his way to the station. After checking in with the ER, John settled down in the waiting room. He knew it would be a long wait, with Sherlock it usually was. He got his phone from his jacket pocket and texted Mary.

Found Sherlock waiting at hospital again

I'm relieved. How is he?

Don't know yet, waiting.

Do you need me?

No. Just waiting. Will let you know.

I love you.

I love you too.

Mary was ready to go into labor any day. She and John were still working on patching up their marriage after the incident last year with Magnussen and Sherlock. Every day was a challenge for John to forgive, however things between them were better. Sherlock had been fairly healthy up to now, he had healed well after the blood loss and shock that he had suffered. They had been working on cases for Mycroft. Mycroft. He would need to be notified if he didn't already know of Sherlock's condition. John decided it could wait until he found out more.

He had nodded off when one of the nurses gently shook his shoulder, waking him.

"Come with me. You can see him now. Doctor Hillcrest is waiting on you."

John thanked her and smiled, quietly following her down the hall toward the Intensive Care Trauma Unit. Doctor Hillcrest was John's age, American. He was tall and lean, greying hair like John's own. He was dressed in the green scrubs of the unit and a lab coat. John noticed he had long, slim fingers like Sherlock's. He was waiting by the central desk.

He shook John's hand with a firm grip. "Dr. Watson. So good to meet you. Sorry about your friend, though. He's been through a lot of trauma in the past few days. Before you go in, I will discuss his injuries. I don't like to do that in front of a patient unless they are stable. Shock and all that.", he waved around his hand. "I'm sure you understand."

John nodded, "I do."

"The main focus right now is on his lung and breathing. His left lung was already injured by some broken ribs but the scalpel wound caused a massive hemothorax. He has in a chest tube for drainage but I want his lung to heal so it is still collapsed. His other lung is fine for now except he has probably aspirated fluids or food. He has overlying pneumonia that we will aggressively treat. He's on a ventilator and sedated so he can begin to heal. The fluids that were in his stomach, intestines and testicles are draining slowly and he will be swollen from that. Were you aware that his heart was out of rhythm?"

John nodded, running a hand thru his short hair, "Some kind of electric shock, I suppose."

Dr. Hillcrest nodded. "Yes. Mr. Holmes is in sinus rhythm now. He has severe electrolyte imbalances to treat."

John nodded, taking the information in. "What about drugs? I saw the woman there giving him something in a syringe. Have you done a toxicology screen?"

Nodding, Dr. Hillcrest continued, flipping thru Sherlock's chart to the lab section. "He tested positive for opiates, benzodiazepines and cocaine. More than likely they were keeping him doped so they could get him to cooperate with them. He has a few old needle track scars along with fresh ones. Do you know if he used before?"

John sighed, "Yes, in the distant past. Heroin I think."

"I'm still concerned about his drug levels. We gave him an agonist to counter the effects of the opiates. She must have overdosed him when you saw him being injected. That was when he stopped breathing, right?"

John nodded.

"I'm keeping a check on his kidney and liver function too. Overdose is hard on the body. The effects can linger in the organs. His bladder and kidneys were filled with saline at one point also. His urinary system is very irritated. The skin on his back has been cleaned and dressed. He is lucky you found him when you did."

"Thank you Dr." John shook his hand before entering Sherlock's room across from the desk.

The lights in the room were dim making it difficult to make out details in Sherlock's still form. He was pale like the white sheets that he lay upon. A light blue hospital gown covered him. He was hooked to a ventilator to breathe for him, a soft holder secured the endotracheal tube in his mouth. There was a larger tube in his nose now draining bloody fluid from his stomach. Below the left side of the bed hung the dark bloody drainage from his lung and another for his urine. John knew that under the blankets and gown were a mess of tubes and wires holding down Sherlock's body.

As John made his way to Sherlock's bedside, he heard the soft hiss of anti-thrombolytic pumps wrapped around Sherlock's slender legs. With all the injuries he had he didn't need a blood clot working its way around to his heart or lungs. Multiple medications pumped into his body through a central line in his neck. Many overhead monitors ran numbers that showed the state of Sherlock's bodily functions. A blood pressure cuff was wrapped around his right upper arm.

Looking closely, Sherlock's hands and fingers were slightly swollen with fluid overload as was his belly. His face was puffy around his eyes and neck.

"Oh, Sherlock. Look at you back in hospital again." John gently took Sherlock's slightly cool hand and rubbed it between his warm ones. Still in shock, he noted. His arms were bruised up and down veins where they had injected drugs. He felt disgusted that another human being could treat someone so cruelly for their own pleasure.

John felt his phone vibrate in a message.

Find Sherlock?

Yes. How did you know where to look?

A web link appeared and John opened it to see a bid site that was advertising the sale of organs and semen from Sherlock Holmes. Of course, their business was shut down now.

Is he ok?

John hesitated to answer but felt she probably knew he had been in serious trouble. He texted back.

No. He's resting.

John waited for a reply. None came. He thought as much it being the mysterious Irene Adler. He smiled slightly at the thought. The only person who could best Sherlock Holmes.


	7. Chapter 7

John dozed in the bedside chair beside his best friend, a still and very much injured Sherlock Holmes. Nurses came and went thru the night, checking Sherlock's vital signs and administering medications.

When John nodded awake, it was morning. He didn't have to work at the clinic so he decided to stay put and keep watch over Sherlock just in case there were any changes in his condition. Now that Sherlock was stabilized, he needed to contact Mycroft. He texted him from his phone.

Sherlock has been found. He's been injured.

I am out of country right now. How injured?

Stable for now, pneumonia and hemothorax. On a vent.

I will be there as soon as I can. Take care of my brother.

As much as John thought Mycroft a complete ass, he did care for Sherlock. A radiology technician and a nurse entered the room with equipment for an x-ray of Sherlock's chest. John excused himself to fetch some coffee from the lounge.

Returning to the room, he noticed that the nurses had turned Sherlock to his right side, fluffy pillows propping up his back and hip. Now that Sherlock faced John he could clearly see his pale face. It seemed that Sherlock had no color at all in contrast with his dark hair. John pulled his chair closer to the bed and sat down. Sighing, he looked at the medications hanging from the IV pole. The larger bags were fluids that kept him hydrated and supported his system. Others were medications, antibiotics for infection, pain and sedation, and electrolytes. His urine had been emptied from the bedside bag. He gently pulled back the blankets to take a peek at Sherlock's abdomen.

Lifting his gown, John saw that his belly was still swollen but was not as protuberant as it had been when he first saw him tied to the frame. His testicles looked bruised and slightly swollen. The surgeon had inserted a drainage catheter into his scrotum attached to a bulb-like drain that was collecting clear watery fluid. Looking at the monitors, Sherlock's blood pressure was a bit on the low side, probably from the medications. His heart rate was steady and the rhythm strip looked normal.

"Looks like you might just make it thru again, Sherlock." John felt his friend's forehead. It was warm, like a fever that is just beginning.

A nurse appeared at the door and quietly knocked.

"Is now a good time? I need to adjust some of his vent settings. Want to wean him off as soon as we can."

"Good." John nodded in agreement. He watched her work as she checked Sherlock's monitors and spoke softly to him before she adjusted the settings. She smiled at John when she noticed him watching her talk to Sherlock. "He's going to be just fine."

"I know." he replied.

She smiled again, "I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to him." she indicated Sherlock with a tip of her head toward his still body. She placed her stethoscope into her ears and proceeded to listen to Sherlock's lungs and belly. She looked to John when she finished.

"The vent is set on an assisted cycle. It will let him breathe when he can and breathe for him when he can't. We're going to lighten his sedation and see how he does."

She checked the breathing tube in Sherlock's mouth. "Mr. Holmes, I'm going to brush your teeth for you. It will feel a bit weird." She gently cleaned his mouth with dental swabs, suctioning out the moisture from his mouth. "I hate to not brush my teeth in the morning, don't you?", she then wiped his face with a moist cloth. "There, a bit more handsome."

"Thank you." John was taken by her compassion.

"You're welcome. Give us a ring out if you, or Mr. Holmes needs anything."

"Sure. Thanks again."

After she left, he leaned over to Sherlock. "Looks like you have an admirer already, you bloody sod. In a coma no less. You are amazing!"

Sagging back in the chair, he waited on Sherlock to respond to the new changes in his treatment. He hoped that it wouldn't be too traumatic for the poor detective.


	8. Chapter 8

Ch. 8 Gentle Care

Watching Sherlock's chest rise and fall in time to the mechanical swish and click of the ventilator was driving John insane. The nursing staff was excellent, and Chrystal was John's pick. He was taken by her earlier as she spoke softly to Sherlock when she was taking care of him. Now, she returned with another female nurse to help her turn Sherlock.

She touched Sherlock's shoulder slightly, "Mr. Holmes, you need to be turned over again. You don't need any nasty bedsores." They handled Sherlock with the utmost care, gently removing the pillows that propped him up. This time, she raised the head of his bed into a semi-reclining position and put his arms on the pillows for support.

Sherlock's breathing started to sound congested as the movement cleared some mucous from his lungs. Chrystal gathered supplies and attached a suction connector to Sherlock's tubing to clear the mucous.

"Sherlock, I'm sorry but I have to suction your airway." She began to suction and John had to leave the room when Sherlock began gagging and coughing. He could hear her apologizing to Sherlock as she completed her task. He was so congested from the pneumonia.

John wiped the tears from his eyes as he wandered down the hall to the floor lounge for a cup of coffee. Soon he told himself. Soon Sherlock will wake up better and be ready to go back to the flat at Baker Street. He took out his cell and rang Mary.

"John, dear. Are you okay?", her concern was reflected in her worried tone.

"Yes. I'm fine. Sherlock...", his voice broke into a sob for his best friend's pain.

"John. John, what's happened?", Mary asked.

He took a deep, calming breath. "Nothing, I'm...just tired and worried, that's all. He's breathing some on his own now but he's so sick. They want to get him off the vent. He's so congested, I really don't know."

Mary pleaded, "Come home and rest. Or at least go to Baker Street and sleep for a while. You can't be there for him when you're sick yourself."

John rubbed at his face, "You're right. I'll see Ms. Hudson and have a kip at the flat."

"Call me if anything changes."

"I will. I love you Mrs. Watson."

"I love you Mr. Watson."

He placed the phone in his jacket pocket and went to let the staff know where they could reach him. Sherlock wouldn't be waking anytime soon.

He checked back in with Sherlock before he left. He looked more comfortable but he had soft restraints around his wrists to keep him from pulling at his tubes. His dark curls had been brushed away from his face and his bed linens and gown had been changed. He smiled to himself and left the room to rest up before the real challenges began.


	9. Chapter 9

Ch. 8 Brotherly Love

Mycroft Holmes was not an easy man to work with. He knew he was stubborn to a fault but felt it was necessary in his line of work. He had finished up his classified work and returned home by charter jet as soon as he could arrange it. His brother needed him.

Mycroft liked the fact that Sherlock had a friend like John who truly cared for him as a person and not an odd freak like others thought of him. Sherlock was always the odd duck and was difficult to find friends that suited his lifestyle of games and detective work. He did not always see things from Sherlock's point of view and they had argued time and time again but he still cared for his brother.

He gathered his always present umbrella as he exited the cab. Anathea had his luggage and was taking it back to his home office. John had texted him Sherlock's room information and the staff was aware that he may arrive in the early morning hours to check on his brother. Sherlock's primary care nurse had went over his chart and highlighted his status with Mycroft. He was shocked at the state of injuries that Sherlock had been through. He wasn't this ill when he was tortured while working for Mycroft during his 2 year "death" nor when he was shot by Mary. He was then led to a dim room at the corner of the nursing station by the kind staff.

His brother lay pale and still in the hospital bed surrounded by machines, wiring and tubes. Oxygen was being artificially forced into his brother's lungs. Multiple medications hung along with fluids being intravenously pumped into his ravaged body. Mycroft cringed at the sight of his brother's hands restrained by soft wristlets attached to the bed's frame. He knew it was for his own safety. A chair waited beside the bed and Mycroft found his way over to sit, not moving his eyes from his brother's face.

He studied the monitors a moment. He was not a medical man, government business being his forte. He knew enough about medicine to know that Sherlock was seriously ill. Sherlock was shockingly pale and his black curls made him look whiter than the sheets on the bed where he lay. He took Sherlock's hand gently into his as he had done many times before when he was withdrawing from heroin. He had been through so many health scares with his brother it was not funny anymore.

He felt Sherlock's fingers twitch slightly as he rubbed some warmth into cool fingers. Mycroft saw a faint grimace as his brothers brow crinkled up in some form of distress. The nursing staff had warned him about the lightened sedation so Sherlock could wake up and begin recovering. He stood and leaned over to softly speak to Sherlock and smooth down his wild curls. This seemed to help soothe him when he was ill or injured.

"I'm here, brother mine. You're doing well. Relax and calm your mind. There is nothing here that will hurt you."

After a few moments of stroking Sherlock's hair, Mycroft saw a sliver of blue-green eyes trying to find a focus. He placed his hand upon his brother's cheek and tilted his head to face him.

"Here, Sherlock. It's Mycroft. I'm right here." His heart was breaking seeing his brother struggle to grasp his surroundings. His eyes cracked open a little more and Mycroft saw the recognition there. Sherlock drew in a deep, raspy breath of his own before setting into a gurgling cough. Two nurses rushed into the room upon hearing and Mycroft gave way to them, settling in the corner near the door. The look on Sherlock's face was a combination of fear and confusion mixed with pain. He was suctioned and repositioned, lying propped up on pillows under his right hip and shoulder.

"Sorry, Mr. Holmes. Your brother has pneumonia and has required frequent suctioning. It really wears him out and he is sleeping deeply again. Please stay as long as you like, the doctor will be making his round soon. He will want to speak with you and answer any questions you might have about Sherlock's treatment and injuries."

Mycroft smiled slightly and nodded, not knowing what to say but "Thank you" as he took his place beside his brother again.

After a light breakfast with Ms. Hudson, John took a cab to the hospital to check on Sherlock. He nodded a quiet hello to the desk staff as he made his way to his best friend's room. Quietly, he rounded the corner to see Mycroft sitting in a chair beside his brother's bed. Sherlock lay slightly turned on his side and his restrained hands were being gently held by Mycroft.

He could hear Mycroft softly soothing his brother.

"Brother Dear. You're under the best of care. No worries." Mycroft was dabbing Sherlock's face with a damp flannel, so carefully because of the breathing tube and gastric tube in his nose.

Sherlock's eyes were slowly opening and closing, wearily focusing on his Brother. It was such a tender moment between them that John felt he was intruding on something sacred. Perhaps it was.

Mycroft noticed John in the doorway and gave him a light smile before leaning in to tell Sherlock that he had company. John walked over to the bedside so Sherlock could see him. Mycroft reached out for John's hand not to shake it as a hello, but to place Sherlock's now warm hands into his. He stood so John could sit.

"Please, John, sit."

Sherlock's eyes seemed to get some brighter and he tightened his grasp on Johns' hands. Sherlock's mouth tried to speak around the tube in his throat but he only made a harsh sigh.

"Shh, shh. Sherlock. Don't try to talk. It's all right."

Sherlock's eyes closed and his brow furrowed in the only frustration he had the energy to show. John touched his cheek.

"Just try to rest. Close your eyes and rest. I'll be here when you open your eyes again." John tried calming his friend. Sherlock slightly nodded and closed his eyes. A tear slid from the corner of his eye. John wiped it away with the flannel that was handed to him from Mycroft. It was then he noticed the dialysis machine behind Sherlock. He looked to Mycroft.

"His kidneys are still in shock. With his kidney function stalled, his liver don't have anywhere to send the drug toxins. Dialysis was his only choice, John. All that heroin and other drugs they had given him along with the medicines for pain and sedation were just making him sicker. This could jump start his kidney function.", Mycroft explained.

John's mouth became suddenly dry. He knew that the dialysis treatment could be permanent if his kidneys were damaged beyond repair. Sherlock's hands still grasped his as if he were his lifeline. He grasped back.

"Did they say how many treatments?"

Mycroft sniffed. "One, possibly up to five. Two hours every other day. He's going to be started on some tube feedings today. His system needs the proteins. He's having some problems clearing his lungs of the thick secretions from the pneumonia so the breathing tube has to stay in until they are sure he can clear his airway on his own. Right now he's too weak but he's breathing on his own. The drain in his, um, scrotum has been removed so I suppose that's something."

John nodded, looking at his best friend Sherlock, seriously ill and there was nothing he could do for him but wait.


	10. Chapter 10

Ch. 10

I knew I was injured when my last thought was the blinding pain in my left side. I couldn't tell exactly what was going on but it was sheer confusion then blissful darkness. My mind was the first to awaken then. Time was of no matter. I couldn't feel anything but pain in my whole being as I struggled upward toward consciousness. My Mind Palace doors were locked and I couldn't get inside so I knew something was very wrong.

I heard soft voices speaking, a sort of mumbling in the hazy background. Opening my eyes was a task and I saw movements in the haze. I couldn't breathe. Pain burst into my chest and head and I choked on something deep in my lungs. I caught the movement of tubing being rearranged around my head and someone touching and moving my body. Those soft voices again beckoned me to rest and I gave in.

Pain again. I tried to concentrate on waking but they must have me drugged pretty well. I can only manage to open my eyes a bit again. I feel a warm pressure on my hands and a familiar buzzing voice in my ear. A hand in my hair, again familiar pressures. I struggle to see thru the haze. It isn't John, the shadow's too tall. Brother... my mind latches on. Mycroft. He's soothing me just like when I used to get sick in withdrawal. I sigh and the pain explodes in my chest again, my throat is so sore.

Touches again, not Mycroft this time. I'm choking again and a gurgling sound is loud in my ears. I see hands reaching for me and I fight the panic inside. A female voice, soft but commanding tells me to relax. I get the feeling there are tubes in my mouth and nose. I want them out but I'm too tired to try to tell them. They are shifting me around again. I hurt all over but I know I am being taken care of instead of being someone's play toy. I succumb to the dark again.

When I came to myself again, Mycroft was still at my bedside. I felt nauseated and weak. Mycroft dabbed at my face with a cool flannel. That helped to quay the pain filled panic that was welling up inside of me. I still felt tubes in my throat and I tried to move my hands to push them away. Mycroft's warm hands encircled mine.

"You're under the best of care, brother dear."

I knew he was right. I felt another set of hands take mine, this time a little rougher and shorter than mine. John. He took the place where Mycroft used to be in my view. I wanted to go home, back to Baker Street. John would make everything better and he could take away all the pain and pull out these annoying tubes in me. I tried to tell him but I had no more strength left.

John's touch to my cheek was all it took for me to tip back over into blissful unconsciousness once again.


	11. Chapter 11

Ch. 11 More Machines

John was happy to see Sherlock's eyes open and responding with his weak grasp but it broke his heart to see more machines hooked up to him. Mycroft had stayed thru his brother's dialysis treatment before weariness took him over and he had to phone his driver to pick him up. John had never witnessed this Mycroft before, caring and soft. Maybe it had something to do with the former crap jobs he had his brother do for him, a kind of apology.

The dialysis nurse skillfully unhooked the tubing from the new lines in Sherlock's right groin. This was going to be difficult to explain to Sherlock when he was able to understand the severity of his treatments for his injuries.

He thought Sherlock looked worse, skin more pale and his uneven, shaky breathing echoed thru the tubing. Sherlock was still holding onto John's hands, his long fingers intertwined with shorter, rougher hands. If that was the only thing John could do for Sherlock right now, by hell he would sit there all day cradling his hands. Sometimes he would gently rub Sherlock's wrists where the restraints fit.

Lab personnel came and went, taking vials of blood from the central line in Sherlock's neck. Chrystal was back on shift for the day, changing out medications and fluids and setting up a nutrient feeding to Sherlock's nasogastric tube. Another machine to add to the melee that was keeping Sherlock alive. John watched as the pink solution fed its way into Sherlock.

"Dr. Watson, I'm going to have to unhook you two now. I need to dress Mr. Holmes' wounds and reposition him."

John blushed slightly and nodded as he unwound his hands from his friend and touched his brow gently. "He feels feverish."

Chrystal nodded, "He is. 101.3 It's from the shock to his body and all the tubes that aren't normal to have. I got an eye on it." She smiled.

"I..Is there anything I can do to help you? With him, I mean."

"If you want to help me by holding him over to you I can redress the wounds on his back."

John nodded. He was happy to help and it gave him something to do other than sit and watch his best friend sleep. "Come on, Sherlock. I've got you." He gathered him up and log rolled him toward him while Chrystal rearranged the tubes and wires around him.

Sherlock's back was healing over nicely, the wounds were not as deep as they had been when he came back from his 2 year European wanderings. Sherlock was wriggling beneath John's steady hands and he noticed that he was awake again. "Easy, mate. Just fixing your back. Be still. Shhh. That's right."

Then the coughing began.

"Just keep him rolled over to you, John. Must have loosened some mucous. Sorry, Sherlock time to suction again."

She rounded the bed to be beside John. Sherlock was still coughing, congestion and thick secretions coming up the breathing tube. His hands were clutching the sheet so tightly that his knuckles were white. She hooked up the suction tubing and moved it down the tube pulling the fluids while withdrawing the suction. Sherlock turned red and gagged as the secretions were suctioned away. "I know, Sherlock. I know you hate it. I do too." One more time then Chrystal cleaned his mouth with swabs while John coached Sherlock to breathe.

As they repositioned Sherlock on his back, he began to tremble. John noticed it first.

"Sherlock."

Sherlock's eyes slowly opened and looked to John.

"Why are you shaking? Are you in pain?"

A slight nod.

"Are you cold?"

Another nod.

"You have a fever. You're going to feel cold."

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment, then reopened them scanning the machines around him. John noticed his discomfort and redirected him.

"Sherlock, look at me. It won't be long. A few more days and they will take some of those tubes out. You're too weak to protect your airway right now." Sherlock reached a hand up toward John. John took hold of it. "I know you're scared but everything is good. You need rest to heal. Chrystal went to get you something for pain. Your lungs are still congested but they aren't bleeding anymore."

John stroked Sherlock's curly hair and Chrystal returned with pain medication. Sherlock's eyes never left John's as she slowly pushed the medication into the port on the back of his hand.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. If I could take your pain I would."

A small grin of his lips and slight nod.

That would be a small price to pay for all that Sherlock had done for him.


	12. Chapter 12

Ch. 12 Something Amazing

Days 3 and 4 Hospitalization

For two more days, John Watson endured Sherlock's hospitalization without much change. Sherlock was still critically ill but stable, sleeping most of the time. When he wasn't sleeping, Sherlock became easily restless and anxious requiring much soothing and usually a sedative before fatigue won over his system. John helped with his daily care, bathing and repositioning. Chrystal showed him how to do range of motion to keep Sherlock's joints from stiffening and to improve his circulation. Even thought John was a Doctor he ordered the therapy, he didn't perform it. But this was Sherlock, his best friend.

Mary brought John his travel bag with clothing changes and other personal items. She visited briefly with Sherlock while John went to freshen up in the lounge.

She sat in the chair by his bed and closed her eyes in a silent prayer for his return to health. She liked Sherlock from the very first time they had met. He was brutally honest and highly intelligent. Opening her eyes again, she looked into the grey-blue eyes peering back at her.

She struggled a bit to stand, her gravid belly throwing off her balance. Sherlock's restrained hand moved over toward her. Being a nurse herself she knew what that meant. She held his hand.

"Sherlock. John will be right back. I brought him some clothes and things. How do you feel?"

Sherlock closed his eyes and made a slight grimace.

"That was a stupid question wasn't it? Are you comfortable?"

His eyes opened again and he nodded a yes before pulling his hand from hers. He pointed at her.

"Me? Oh, yes. I'm good."

Then he pointed at her stomach.

"The baby? Great! I'm due in 2 weeks. Can't wait."

Sherlock held his hand out again and moved his fingers signaling a 'come closer'.

She took a step closer and guided his hand towards her. He wanted to put his hand on her stomach. She was then glad the baby was active.

"Wait for it. You will feel it, just be still and wait", she watched Sherlock as his eyes closed in concentration, waiting for the event to happen.

When the baby moved, it was a strong kick. Sherlock's eyes widened and he smiled around the breathing tube.

Mary grasped his hand. "Amazing isn't it?"

John reappeared in the room, fresh from his shower and change. He looked at them both quizzically, "What did I miss?"

Sherlock pointed to Mary's stomach.

"Sherlock felt the baby move just now." She beamed a smile and stroked Sherlock's hair.

John rounded the bed to kiss Mary on the cheek. "You are incredible Mrs. Watson."

"I know".

He looked at Sherlock who was now asleep, a faint smile on his lips.


	13. Chapter 13

Ch. 13

Physician Progress Notes

Day 4 of patient hospitalization.

William Scott Sherlock Holmes Caucasian male, age 38.

Condition Serious

Mr. Holmes entered my care following a traumatic experience of kidnapping and torture. This is day 4 of his hospital stay and he remains in the Intensive Care Unit.

Diagnosis:

Pneumonia following respiratory failure. Currently intubated and remains on an assisted ventilator cycle. Weaning has been slow due to his chest congestion, weakness and pneumonia. Plans for extubation today if patient is ready. BiPAP will be used to assist patient's breathing rate and volume. Lung percussion with albuteral treatments twice a day as tolerated to loosen up secretions.

Sepsis from multiple trauma

Rib fractures x 4 left side

Open wound to lung left side, stabbed with scalpel during torture. Subsequent hemothorax, resolving nicely. Little to no bloody drainage in chest tube. Removal at the time of extubation planned.

Multiple back skin lacerations being treated, dressed. Healing.

Contusions to penis and scrotum. Scrotal swelling down, using support. Foley intact and draining dark urine.

Overdose multiple opiates, benzodiazepines and heroin. Past user of heroin. Pain and anxiety control is more important than addiction issues. Will watch for withdrawal symptoms and seizures. Treat with methadone liquid if necessary.

Heart arrythmia, resolved

Electrolyte imbalances resolving. Continue to monitor

Acute kidney failure from drug toxicity. BUN-creatnine values getting better. Continue to monitor, hold dialysis for now. Leave in femoral permacath.

Continue with antithrombic pump to prevent DVT in lower extremities and support blood flow. ROM exercises twice a day.

Fluid overload from torture infusions and instillations.

Malnutrition. Patient has history of anorexia when working, poor nutrition. Started on NG tube feeds. Continue if patient tolerates. Consider PEG tube since he will have a long recovery period. Will mention to patient and family.

Patient has family and friend support. Flatmate is a physician. Continue with support system and encourage patient compliance.

Dr. J. Hillcrest, MD


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14:

Mid-Day Day 4

Sherlock had slept quietly through the morning, even sleeping through most of Dr. Hillcrest's exam. John was relieved to know that things were looking up for his ill friend. It was around noon when Sherlock began to stir.

John rose from his chair and placed his hand on Sherlock's shoulder. He spoke quietly to Sherlock.

"I'm here. Easy."

Sherlock blinked his eyes to clear his vision. John smiled at him.

"Hello." Their eyes met. John then pressed the nurse call button. Sherlock's brows furrowed in question.

"Dr. Hillcrest wanted to know when you were awake. You slept through his visit this morning." John nodded to the nurse that had appeared at the door. She nodded back before returning to the Nursing Station.

"He's going to take out some of those tubes."

Sherlock closed his eyes and sighed, slightly nodding in agreement. John knew he had to be relieved that he would be freed from some of the restraining tubes. John helped Sherlock straighten himself up in the bed when he noticed Sherlock briefly grimacing and holding his stomach. John stood beside the bed with his hands clutching the bed rail. He didn't know how he could help his friend. He closed his eyes for a moment, pausing to gather his thoughts about how to ask Sherlock about his stomach. He knew he was tired of being asked questions about his health status.

He felt a cool hand over his and looked to see a distressed Sherlock looking to him, tears in his eyes. His other hand was still clutching at his stomach. He grasped Sherlock's hand between his.

"Sherlock, is your stomach hurting?"

A nod and more tears. John pulled a tissue from the bedside table and wiped away the tears streaming down Sherlock's face. Quietly, he soothed him, "Nothing we can't fix..hmm? Dr. Hillcrest will be here in a few minutes. Let's have a look see, hmm?"

John knew that Sherlock had been having some bouts with diarrhea since he was started on the tube feedings. Gently, John pulled down the blanket and raised Sherlock's gown a bit to uncover his belly only to find it slightly distended. "I'm going to feel okay?" John gently pressed on Sherlock's stomach.

"Hmm...you are a bit distended. Nauseated any at all?"

Sherlock nodded again.

A new voice spoke from the doorway. "Not tolerating the tube feeds?" It was Dr. Hillcrest. He approached the opposite side of the bed from John.

"Hello Mr. Holmes. It's good to see you are recovering well."

Sherlock nodded.

John stepped back as Dr. Hillcrest took out his stethoscope to listen to Sherlock's abdomen, heart and lungs. "Pain in your belly, Mr. Holmes?" Gentle palpation again.

Sherlock nodded.

He pulled down the gown to cover Sherlock's exposed stomach. "I'm here to take out that breathing tube and probably your chest tube." He looked at the IV pumps and settings before going to the door and calling for his nurse. John was relieved to see Chrystal. Sherlock was more at ease when she cared for him. Dr. Hillcrest instructed her on some new orders and she jotted them down on a notepad.

Chrystal is going to discontinue that tube feed and I am going to get respiratory up here to help with your extubation, okay Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock nodded and gripped John's hand.

"That's good, Sherlock. I'm glad to see you are getting better." Chrystal smiled her best while attending to the pump that gave Sherlock his feeding. She turned off the feed. "I'm going for supplies, I will be right back."

John smiled at Sherlock, who still seemed fretful about the whole event.

"Sherlock, I know you are uncomfortable. That tube will come out and you'll feel much better. We still have to work on the breathing." Sherlock's eyes rolled. John laughed. "I know, breathing's boring."

Chrystal returned and disconnected the tubing from the pump and flushed Sherlock's nasogastric tube with bottled water until it was clear again. "Sherlock, your tummy don't like the feeding very well. You've been so sick, it's common to have that happen. This will help with that sick feeling and distention." Then she turned on the wall suction and connected the tube to it to clear his stomach of the last feeding. Slowly the pinkish fluid began to fill the suction canister. Sherlock tried to watch but Chrystal warned him. "You don't want to watch that with your tum already sick." She then hung a small bag of IV medicine to the already impressive array that he already had. "Now this medicine will help with that yucky feeling." She glanced back at the suction canister then to Sherlock.

"Are you okay? You seem afraid."

He nodded a small bit. She smiled, placing a hand on his cheek.

"There's nothing to be afraid of. No one to hurt you here. I'll get Dr. Hillcrest to order you something to help you relax before he pulls any tubes, okay?"

Another nod.

Chrystal smiled at John while Sherlock closed his eyes, trying not to panic. His breathing was a bit more ragged and fast. John knew Sherlock had a long recovery before him.

Chrystal left them for a few moments before returning to give him something for his anxiety in his IV port. John held onto Sherlock's hand to reassure him and tried to distract him with talk of the day's news. John felt Sherlock relax a little each minute until Dr. Hillcrest returned with the respiratory therapist. The RT was carrying a bag with supplies in it.

"Sherlock, I'm going to set you up a bit." John adjusted the head of the bed while the Doctor and RT laid out supplies. John noticed Sherlock watching them as they laid out a bag mask and oxygen mask on the bedside table. The RT turned on the wall oxygen and attached it to the bag mask as Dr. Hillcrest listened to Sherlock's chest again.

John coached him, "Sherlock, don't look at them, look at me." Wide aqua eyes focused on his dark blue ones. "That's it. Only me. Deep breaths. In and out. Just like that."

They disconnected the tubing from the ventilator.

John refocused Sherlock, "No no me. Look at me." Suctioning made him cough and gag and then he felt the tube pull free and more suctioning. John held his head still while the RT cleared out his mouth and throat before giving him some breaths from the bag mask. John then held his hands while the RT finished his work and fixed a tight fitting oxygen mask around Sherlock's head. Sherlock's wide eyes caught every movement. He clung to John's hands.

Dr. Hillcrest removed the soft restraints holding Sherlock's wrists while explaining the oxygen treatment he was receiving. The respiratory therapist gathered the dirty equipment and left the room to dispose of it.

"This mask is a continuous positive airway pressure mask. CPAP for short. A little more uncomfortable than an oxygen mask but it will help you breathe better and clear that pneumonia from your lungs. Better oxygen perfusion will help you heal faster too. Try to tolerate it for a few days okay?"

Sherlock felt around the mask and made a small humming sound. He looked tired and pale now. Dr. Hillcrest felt his abdomen once more before checking the suction from his stomach. John noticed a few red streaks in the tubing that wasn't there before. The canister contained a few dark red blobs or clots from his stomach. No wonder his stomach was hurting, his stomach was bleeding. Dr. Hillcrest pulled the mask loose and pulled the tape holding the tube in Sherlock's nose and advanced it a bit further into his stomach. Bright red blood then filled the tube and splashed into the canister. He looked at John.

Sherlock could not see what they were looking at but knew something was wrong. Dr. Hillcrest re-taped the tube and fixed his mask. Sherlock's arms flailed to John as he tried to sit up further. John pushed him back on the bed.

"John...what's...wrong?" came Sherlock's voice, rough and whispery.

"Now, Sherlock...don't panic. Lie still...and... don't panic. You have a GI bleed.", John tried to explain fighting back the pain he felt for his best friend.

"Where?"

"Your stomach probably. It looks like it is actively bleeding and you can lose a lot of blood volume that way. I need to get you into endoscopy to take a look right away. I'm going to make immediate arrangements." Dr. Hillcrest rushed from the room to secure an operating room.

Sherlock clung to John's arms and John lowered the bedrail to sit on the bed facing him. Sherlock looked so tiny in the stark whiteness of the hospital bed. His dark hair a mess of unruly curls and eyes still wide with pain and fear. He tried to talk but that ended in a gagging dry cough.

John wrapped his arms around his skinny frame and pulled him in close. Sherlock laid his head over John's shoulder while John rubbed his back. "Sssh. Don't try to talk just yet. Just breathe and rest." John felt Sherlock slightly tremble and choke back a few sobs. He mumbled a faint whisper, "What's wrong... with ...me, John?"

John held him. "You've been very sick, Sherlock. You can't help it. Just let it all out. You are still very sick. Let me take care of you." He stroked Sherlock's hair, now damp from emotion and exertion of being moved around. John supposed he needed Sherlock to hold him just as much as Sherlock needed John. After a few minutes of silent comfort, Sherlock weakly pulled away and John helped him lay back down, adjusting the mask on his face and generally fussing over the tangle of wires and tubing. He smoothed back Sherlock's hair from his face and wiped his face with a cool flannel. Sherlock closed his eyes and he and John waited for the OR team to arrive.


End file.
